So this is it, Veronica thought, as the girls joined a throng of gargoyles of various sizes moving about their business in a vast subterreanean cave, home sweet hole in the ground.
Centuries ago, the magic-using human community—who apparently identify as “mages”—created gargoyles as servants. Centuries after that we revolted, and hid in this mountain in the middle of the Czech Republic, and then literally nothing else ever happened.
Generations went by and everyone stayed in here weaving shitty clothes fro roods and farming mushrooms and never going out. And being safe and happy? I guess?
She crossed paths with a quadripedal gargoyle with a large dinosaurlike sail running down his spine. They don’t seem especially happy, she reflected. I sure as shit wasn’t.
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